


Guess I'll Just Call It a Feeling

by dreammethew0rld



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 06:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreammethew0rld/pseuds/dreammethew0rld
Summary: Nothing has changed between Emily and Lindsey, but Emily has a feeling she can't quite describe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “But redemption will come for you so  
Guess I'll just call it a feeling  
Tonight, I'll just comfort you so  
Baby, you could start to believe in all I know"
> 
> Lyrics and title from the song Redemption by Dermot Kennedy. I suggest taking a listen before or after reading this! This is my first fic of any sort I've ever written so please bare with me. Also took a chance with 2nd person POV, but hope you enjoy!

“Thank you,” you say as the waitress sets down your food on the table. Caitlin and Ellie are deep in conversation, too busy to even notice the nice lady who’s been serving you throughout the night.

You’re sitting on the outside patio at one of your favorite spots in Portland, sipping your drink lightly. In the mornings, you and Lindsey and more often than not, Cailtin and Ellie come here for the best avocado toast in the city. In the evenings it gets converted to a bar. There’s live music, Christmas lights strung up above, the whole shabang of millennial Portland.

The cool evening air feels good against the skin of your bare arms. The nip of it is just enough to help you realize the conversation is still very much happening at the table. You nod along to whatever Caitlin is saying, stirring the straw around in your drink. You’re not really listening though, because you can feel Lindsey staring at you. Your eyes glance up at the same second her eyes flicker towards Ellie, who still going on and on about this new restaurant they all need to try. You saw enough of it though. It’s a different kind of stare, one you have only seen once or twice more recently. Each time it stirs something deep in your stomach. You try not to think about it.

Lindsey joins back in on the conversation with the other girls and you tell yourself to focus, to relax. You manage to chime in on whatever the girls says next and soon the conversation shifts, once again, to something completely different. You settle into your chair more and laugh along with your friends. You feel good, happy even. It’s a refreshing feeling from the past few months of chaos. It’s partly because you love your friends that you feel this way, have missed spending time with them. It’s also probably (mostly) due to the fact that the waitress brought you another drink. You don’t remember ordering it. You keep talking, everyone keeps laughing and it all feels so good, nostalgic almost. Like the way it used to be before life got in the way.

You don’t let your eyes drift toward Lindsey for the rest of the night.

:::

“Darlings! I love you sooo much,” Caitlin chimes.

You’re all huddled in a circle, like how you do before a game. Except it’s just the four of you and your standing in the middle of the sidewalk outside of a bar, waiting for an Uber. Your arms are draped over Lindsey and Ellie’s shoulders. You try not to put too much pressure even though your brain is foggy and you can’t exactly think straight.

“We have to do this again, ok?” Says Ellie.

“Of course we are doing this again,” Lindsey says, drawing out the “oh” sound in the word course, “I have missed my darlings too much to not do this again, like soon.”

The circle shifts, (none of you are steady at all from the drinks) and your foot accidentally steps on Ellie’s foot and your hand somehow ends up on the back of Lindsey’s neck. The touch almost sears your fingers. Your fingers graze over the gold chain necklace that is always glued there. The contrast from the cold metal to the warm skin of her neck would be enough to knock you on your feet if you weren’t holding onto Ellie with your other arm. You blame it on the alcohol, just playing with you senses. Your arm drifts back to down to her shoulders. Everyone laughs and finds their footing (as best they can) again.

When the Uber pulls up, Caitlin, too loudly, yells “shotgun” and opens the passenger side of the car. Ellie climbs messily in the back and you follow right behind her. Lindsey’s close on your heels. Before she sits down though, she turns to the driver and asks,

“Uber for Lindsey?” making sure you’re even getting in the right car. She always has been the most responsible out of all of you. The driver confirms and peels off from the curb and back onto the street. Their conversation starts back up again, much quieter, but just as thorough as before.

The feeling of the moving car mixed with all the alcohol makes you almost drowsy. You’re leaning your head against the headrest, cursing the middle seat because all you want to do is lean your head against the window, when Lindsey reaches over and places her hand on top of your thigh, just above your knee. It gives you enough courage to lean your head against her shoulder. It feels warm. It feels too easy.

You two always have been particular touchy. Lindsey more often than not lays her head in your lap when you’re on the couch together watching dumb reruns of 90s sitcoms you both have seen a hundred times. Or you’ll pull her feet into your lap if she’s laying the other way. Somehow, you always find each other touching. This isn’t the first time Lindsey has rested her hand like that and it isn’t the first time you’ve rested your head on her shoulder, but tonight it feels different. Just like the stare Lindsey was giving you at the bar earlier. It felt different.

You close your eyes and once again, try not to think about it.

The driver drops Ellie and Caitlin off first (they only live down the street from you and Lindsey) and suddenly it’s just you and Lindsey in the car. Lindsey lets out a sigh once the kisses are done being blown from Ellie and Caitlin and the car door closes.

“This was really fun',” Lindsey says softly. “I missed everyone being together so much.”

The last 5 months have been a whirlwind for the both of you. Training for, playing in, winning and then celebrating a World Cup can take a toll out of a person, mentally and physically. Tonight was the first night just the four of you have been together since May. You have missed it so much as well.

“Me too” you say, equally as soft.

Your voice sounds hoarse, probably from all the laughing and excessive yelling that comes with hanging out with Ellie, Caitlin and Lindsey. You clear your throat and lift your head off of Lindsey’s shoulder just as the car is pulling into the front of your complex.

You both mumble a “thanks so much” to the driver and scooch out of the car. It feels heavy to walk, like gravity is somehow pushing you down harder than usual. You place a hand on Lindsey’s bicep without thinking too much about it and you feel your fingers burn again. You walk the rest of the way to the apartment in silence.

It’s still silent while the two of you are getting ready for bed. You move around the bathroom easily together like you have hundreds of nights before, while you’re brushing your teeth and Lindsey is washing her face. You make eye contact in the mirror while she’s patting her face dry and give her a soft smile. She returns it, the slightest bit of pink rising on the tips of her cheeks. She turns away and walks swiftly out of the room after that, leaving you to spit your toothpaste in the sink and smirk quietly to yourself. It feels different, even though it shouldn’t.

You’re just about to turn the lamp off next to your bed when Lindsey pads in. She’s wearing an old, yellow t-shirt that says “Denver” arched across the front. It’s oversized and it looks like she’s not wearing pants under it. You force yourself to look away and up to her face.

“Here. For the morning. She hands you a water bottle and hovers over your hand to drop 2 pills into it.

It’s such a small act, but so thoughtful that you have to resist the urge to grin.

“Thanks Linds”.

Lindsey makes no effort to turn around and leave the room after that. She’s standing above you, from where you’re sitting on the bed and she feels so entirely tall it’s overwhelming. You make eye contact again. You notice the pink on her cheeks is still there.

“Goodnight Sonnett”. She turns on her heels and heads towards the door, has it halfway open-

“Lindsey” you blurt out. You don’t know why you said it. You just know you don’t want her to open that door and walk away. Can’t stand the thought of being alone while the world feels so heavy. “Will- will you stay?”

She doesn’t say anything, just steps back half a step, closes the door and spins on her heels as fast as she did moments ago. You’re still sitting on the bed, watching her as she strides over to the night stand and flicks the lamp off. You feel the weight of her sit down on the bed and suddenly you remember you have to move if you ever want to go to sleep. And you do, so badly. The comforter feels heavy on top of you when you move under it, just how the gravity felt when you were walking inside, a physical representation of the world. When Lindsey finally adjusts you can feel the warmth of her breath against the back of your neck. You try to focus on the weight of the blanket.

“Goodnight Linds.” Your voice still sounds hoarse.

“Goodnight Em”.

This is not the first time you have slept in the same bed and it’s not even the first time you have felt her breath on your neck.

But it feels different, somehow.

:::

You wake up the next morning and the bright morning sunlight flickering through the window gives your entire room a deep, golden hue. You curse yourself for not closing the blinds last night because the light was definitely what woke you up, you definitely could have slept much longer and you definitely need the sleep. But then you wake up a little more and you realize what’s happening. Lindsey, in her sleeping state, has her arm draped across your shoulder and her right leg completely wrapped around your torso. You can still feel her breath against your neck, much more slow and rhythmic than when you fell asleep the night before.

You make an effort to sync your breathing pattern to hers and just lay there for a few moments. Of course, you’ve woken up to a sleeping Lindsey in your bed before. This shouldn’t be anything new, but somehow you can’t stop the drop in your stomach when you let yourself think about what exactly is happening right now. It feels different.

You slowly start to feel the effects of the alcohol from last night, can feel your head start to throb and all you can do is inhale deeply and move your body back, further into Lindsey. You remember the water and Advil Lindsey gave you last night, could really use it right now. But you can’t reach it on the nightstand from the spot you’re in and you definitely don’t want to move.

You lose track of time, laying like that, although you don’t fall back asleep. The weight of Lindsey pushed up against you is too overwhelming for your senses to fully relax.

After a while (you really don’t know how long), your head calms down. Lindsey is still somehow fast asleep, hasn’t moved a single inch since you woke up and you shift just enough to look at her. And then you’re breath gets caught in your lungs. The light through the blinds is hitting Lindsey’s hair which is sprawled out above her. The golden color beaming on the golden streaks of her hair is ethereal. She looks so incredibly calm, delicate, so relaxed in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, definitely not in the past 5 months.

The way she looks so fragile but at peace with the world, you want to protect her…would never have her wake up if this is what she looks like when she’s sleeping. The world can’t disturb her like this.

You twist around fully, trying your hardest to not shift the bed so she doesn’t wake. You’re pushed right up against each other. Now you can feel her breath against your mouth. It’s too much. It feels like too much. You haven’t ever allowed yourself to ever get this close to her in this intimate of a setting. If you did you wouldn’t be able to stop the thoughts you knew you would have. And you were right.

Before you can peel away and put some space between you, Lindsey stirs. You watch as her eyelids flutter open and you’re met with the softest, bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. _It’s too much_.

You need to move away, _have_ to move away before whatever you’re feeling bursts inside you. But you’re frozen, glued to the spot you’re in, looking straight into Lindsey’s eyes.

“Hmm hi,'' she mumbles. Her voice sounds incredibly low, gravelly and laced with sleep. She nuzzles her face back into the pillow and closes her eyes. You keep looking at her. Your noses are almost touching.

“Hi,” you reply, almost at a whisper. It looks like Lindsey could already be asleep again.

You hadn’t bothered to check the time when you woke up, too preoccupied with _other_ things and it’s at this point you realize you have no idea what time it is. You have training this afternoon, your first one back since the World Cup, so you probably should get a move on with things, for the sake of being on time and so you can stop feeling like you might explode at any moment.

“Linds,” this time you make an effort to speak a little louder.

“Mmhm.”

“We should get up. We have training at 2. We need to eat and hydrate.”

“Mmhm,” she says again, this time more of a grumble. And god she looks so soft, sounds so soft. If you could deduce the overwhelming feeling of _whatever_ it is you are feeling, you think you would like to stay this way forever, with the light on her hair and the warmth of her body radiating against yours.

She shifts again and rolls onto her back. The lack of warmth from her movement is immediate and you want to roll on top of her. Just a moment ago you were getting ready to pull away, feeling too overwhelmed with the situation, and now you want nothing more than to be as close to her as possible.

Yes, you definitely want to roll on top of her. And you definitely want to kiss her. Those are the thoughts you would’ve never let come to the surface of your mind prior to this morning but now it would be impossible to hold them back: When she’s in your bed, when she looks like _this_.

You lean forward and place your lips to her shoulder, one soft peck over her t-shirt and pull up to look at her face. Her eyes are fluttering open again. You hold her gaze, making sure she won’t close them again but more than anything because they are so blue, and so sleepy, you can’t look away.

“Cmon, I’ll make the eggs.” And with that you swing your legs over the side of the bed, stand up, and walk towards the door, praising yourself for your amount of self control.

:::

You’re in the middle of poaching the eggs, listening to one of your new playlists when Lindsey strides into the kitchen. Her hair is pulled messily into a bun now and she’s still wearing the same outfit she went to sleep in. Same long shirt and presumably, really short shorts. You can’t seem them, can just see the top of her toned thighs and _god-_

Your head jerks up and you force yourself to get a grip.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Your tone is teasing and you give her another soft smile. You’re just about to turn your head back to the stove, really need to focus on the eggs so they don’t get messed up and so you don’t do something that’s incredibly stupid when-

Lindsey clasps her hands together, reaches towards the ceiling, pushes her torso out an inch and stretches. This is when her shirt rides up and now you can see the shorts. Can see the number 16 stitched into the right leg, can see now why they are short on her. Because Lindsey is wearing _your shorts_.

You physically can’t stop yourself from letting out a sound that’s similar to being choked.

In any other situation you would tease her, make a joke, say _something_ about it.

But your head jolts back to the pan and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your hands so you can scoop the eggs out and onto the plate.

“Here, make the toast,” you manage to tell her as you slide the loaf of bread across the counter over to where she is standing.

“God, I’m starving,” Lindsey says.

“Well if you hurried up and made the toast we could eat a lot faster, ya know” you shoot back, trying to make it all seem normal again. Because this should be normal.

You’ve stood like this in the kitchen before, while she made the toast and you cooked the eggs. You’ve seen her wear your clothes before, but your sweatshirts, mostly... never your shorts.

_It feels different_.

She finishes spreading the avocado on the bread and you place the eggs on top, then you walk over and set both plates down on the table. You go back to the kitchen and fill 2 large glasses with ice, then water and move to place the glass by Lindsey, who’s already sitting down and halfway through the first piece of food.

“Here, you need to drink this.”

“Hmm, thanks” she says and takes a large sip, barely even looking up from the plate.

“These eggs are good,” She states.

“I know they are, I made them.”

“Wish I could make them right so I didn’t have to rely on your idiot ass to make them for me.”

You chuckle, “Hm look at you wanting to be self sufficient. That’s new.”

“Shut up.”

You eat the rest of the way in silence. It’s not awkward, there’s just not much to discuss after talking so much with Ellie and Caitlin last night.

But the air feels kind of heavy again, and maybe that’s the reason why you don’t know how to get any other words out.


	2. Chapter 2

Practice is good, really good. You feel lighter than you have in days, with the ball under your feet and the warm afternoon sun on your skin.

You make it a point to say hello to each teammate you see and try and chat as much as you can with them. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to do this, had time to mess around on the pitch, freely, without the added pressure that’s always in the back of your mind.

You feel yourself get lifted higher with each teammate you talk to, and each shot you block, that by the end of practice you feel like you’re almost soaring.

You love this team so much, this city so much and you’re just feeling really grateful for everything that has worked out to get you here. No matter what may be going on in your head, you know you can step onto the pitch with your teammates and forget about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Lindsey slings an arm your shoulder while your walking back to the locker room. It knocks the breath out of you slightly. That’s been happening a lot more often lately than it should.

“You were killing it out there,'' she exclaims, right into your ear, only for you to hear.

You were walking next to Tobin in the tunnel, but you slow down and gesture for her to go ahead. Now, it’s just you and Lindsey, all the others either still on the field or already in the locker room.

You reach up and grab her hand, the one that’s thrown around your shoulder. You slit your fingers through hers without thinking about it. It just felt like something you wanted to do, because you’re feeling really good right now, and don’t want the heaviness to slip in again and Lindsey somehow keeps that feeling away whenever you get close to her.

“Thanks,” you say. “So were you,” And she was. She really was. Lindsey is so good at soccer it’s hard to put into words. Her style of play and how she can impact any game as always inspired you, pushed you to be the best you can be on the field. You’ve always thought she was so, so good.

“You gonna hit that bicycle kick during the game?” You add.

She laughs softly, “Maybe for you I will.”

You make it to the locker room, breaking apart to walk to your separate lockers. Music is playing, and you easily laugh and dance right along with everyone in the room. But you can’t help but let your eyes drift towards Lindsey a few times, lingering when she reaches up to redo her hair and then peels her training shirt above her head to change into a worn, black hoodie.

Just like how she’s good at soccer, you also think she's so, so beautiful. Even in the strange lighting of the locker room, with so much commotion around, you zoom in on the soft line of her abs, before they get covered by the black fabric of the hoodie. You focus on the rosiness of her cheeks from running laps in the afternoon heat, how her neck curves into her shoulders, the dimples on either side of her smile when she laughs at Kling, who’s dancing wildly around the room.

It’s starting to feel overwhelming again and you force yourself to zone back out and listen to the next song that’s playing, to dance alongside Kling like you normally would be doing if Lindsey wasn’t distracting you so much. It works for a while, you dance and jump along to the music that at this point is blasting. You’ve missed this, everyone being so happy and just _together_.

Without thinking though, your eyes search for Lindsey around the room again. It’s like she’s magnetic, always pulling you towards her in some way or the other. You really can’t help it. When you find her, her eyes meet yours and she gives you an enormous grin that stretches over her entire face. At the same time, she lets out the most genuine laugh you’ve ever heard. It’s a classic Lindsey laugh, one you can tell is from a genuine feeling of happiness and you will never, ever get tired of hearing it. The sight and sound fill your body with a feeling that maybe someone shouldn’t have towards their best friend.

It’s like the golden light from the window this morning is beaming right into your chest.

Her dimples are so deep and so big when she smiles and all you want to do is stride over to her, stick out your finger and poke them. Maybe you want to touch them with a certain part of your face too, but you don’t have time to think about that because you’re already striding over to her with your finger poking out in front of you.

Lindsey’s grin falters just a bit when she realizes you’re walking towards her from across the room. But before she can do anything else, your finger is in her dimple and you're laughing and grinning and then she starts laughing and grinning even harder than before.

The bass from the speaker and the deep rumble of Lindsey’s giggle fills your ears.

You keep dancing, right next to Lindsey until the music stops and your teammates are trickling out of the locker room. No one’s really saying goodbye, you have a game tomorrow. You’ll all see each other again in less than 24 hours. Thinking about it puts just a hint of a nervous pit in your stomach. This sometimes happens before a game, depending on which game it is. This time it’s because it’s your first one back. Even though you have a World Cup title to your name, you have a lot more to prove and this game feels like a good place to start with that.

You gather your stuff and find Lindsey, who’s already found Tobin. They’re discussing game tactics for tomorrow and you walk alongside them out of the room, headed for the parking lot. You listen intently to what they’re talking about. It’s important, and you’re not going to let the feeling of Lindsey’s arm brushing against your skin while you’re walking next to her distract you. You chime in with your opinions on how certain plays should be run and then finally you're at Lindsey’s car.

“Bye Tobes!” You yell to the space that’s already between you guys as she’s walking to her own car.

“Bye Toby, love you! See you tomorrow!” Lindsey yells, even louder than you.

“Bye guys. See you tomorrow. Don’t get into too much trouble from right now until you see me again.”

“Ahh, can’t promise ya that Tobes.” You yell back, and then Lindsey is unlocking her car, and you’re settling into the passenger seat, grabbing the aux. It’s an unspoken rule that you always get the aux, no matter who’s driving.

You start up a playlist full of songs you know Lindsey knows by heart, just so you can hear her sing them. She’s an absolute terrible singer, you’ll admit, but you like the way her voice sounds when she’s next to you, competing with the stereo to see which can be louder. She always wins.

It’s in the middle of her doing just that, when you look over at her and widen your eyes. Because she’s really going for it, absolutely belting the song over the stereo and you can’t help but laugh and give her an awestruck look. She laughs, deeply, like she did in the locker room and all you can do is laugh back. This is becoming a pattern.

Then, she lifts her right arm from the steering wheel and places it on top of your thigh, like in the Uber the night before, except this time, it’s slightly higher up. She squeezes it twice. You have to resist the urge to squirm because it slightly tickles. The skin she’s touching already starts to burn.

After the next song, Lindsey quiets down again, probably just because she’s out of breath, and you reach out to turn the volume knob down.

“Are you hungry, can we get food?” You ask.

“Yeah, where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t care, you can choose. But let’s just get something to go because I wanna go home.”

“Ok, me too.”

You don’t discuss where she’s driving to, she just drives with her hand on your thigh until she’s pulling into a restaurant that you usually go for takeout on days like this.

She leaves the car on and opens her door, and you make no move to get out because you know Lindsey will tell you that you can stay, that she’ll go inside and get your food.

“You want the usual?” She asks.

“Hmm.”

When Lindsey returns to the car her hand finds your thigh almost immediately and stays that way until you park in the parking garage of your apartment.

When you get in, you sit on the floor in front of the coffee table and start up a new show that Ellie suggested you watch. You chat a bit, just about the game tomorrow and if you want to meet up with Caitlin and Ellie for brunch before you head to the stadium.

You move to the couch after throwing out the last of your food and you pull her feet into your lap when she settles on the other side. It’s your second favorite position, first being her head in your lap instead of her feet. But you’ll take what you can get. After one more episode both of you are yawning and straining to keep your eyes open and you shut the TV off without even asking Lindsey if she wanted to go to bed; you can tell just by glancing over at her that she does. She looks exhausted.

“You know this is what old women do right? Get tired at 8 pm.” She says.

“My mom always told me I have an old soul, so maybe that’s it.” You say back.

“You have the soul of a seven year old child so I don’t know what your mom is talking about.”

This time it’s your turn to tell her to shut up and then you stand off the couch and make your way towards the bathroom, Lindsey right behind you.

You get ready for bed the same way you did the night before. This is so normal, you’ve done this plenty of times, literally almost every single night. But then you make eye contact in the mirror, and Lindsey’s cheeks turn slightly pink again, even though the laps she ran were hours ago. Her face completely washed and cleaned since then. As if on cue, she turns on her heels and leaves you alone in the bathroom after telling you,“Goodnight Son.”

She doesn’t come back in your room after that, doesn’t really have a reason to anyway. But the world doesn’t feel as heavy as it did last night so you turn the lights off and climb under the blanket.

You’re still slightly hoping you’ll hear the squeak of the door open though. Hope you’ll hear her pad over to you and you’ll feel the weight of the bed shift, and then have her fit against you like a matching puzzle piece.

That’s the most you let yourself think before your head hits the pillow and sleep washes over you.

You never hear the door open.


	3. Chapter 3

You did end up making plans with Ellie, Caitlin and this time Hayley for brunch before the game. You wake up to your alarm, to your dismay, and are in the middle of fixing your hair in the bathroom mirror when Lindsey peeks her head around the corner. And it scares the _shit_ out of you.

You jump back with a gasp.

“Jesus, Son I didn’t mean to scare you,” She says through a laugh.

You take a slight step forward and push her, teasingly against her chest. “Well, you did.”

“Hey, can I wear this?” She holds up your light pink sweatshirt for you to see. Your stomach drops just the slightest.

“Yeah, you can wear it. Why are you even asking?” Because she’s worn that sweatshirt many times, most of the time to brunch, and she never asks. She also definitely didn’t ask if she could wear your shorts yesterday.

“I don’t know, just working on my manners I guess,” she replies.

“Oh, so now you want to have manners _and_ be self sufficient? What’s gotten into you Linds?”

“Seriously, shut up,” She says through another small laugh and then she’s already turned around and out of the room before you can say anything else.

:::

You order an iced coffee and avocado toast once you’re seated at the restaurant.

“I will have the exact same thing as her,” Lindsey tells the waiter.

You smile quietly to yourself because it’s cute, the way Lindsey said it.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen anyone eat as much avocado toast as you two do,” Hayley says after everyone finishes ordering.

Lindsey sways her body to bump into your shoulder and you both shrug at the same time.

“What can we say, we love ourselves some avocado toast.”

For the rest of the meal, you all make it a point to keep the conversation light and fun. You talk about the movies you want to see and other new places you all want to try out in Portland. The atmosphere always has a different feel to it on game days and you try and avoid thinking about any of it until it’s time to get into game day mode.

Lindsey’s leg is pushed up against yours the entire time through brunch though. And that’s something you can’t stop yourself from thinking about. At this point, you’re learning to relish in the burning sensation that comes along with Lindsey touching any part of your bare skin. It still feels overwhelming though. You have to inhale deeply and lean your hand against the seat of the booth to steady yourself when Lindsey somehow scooches even closer.

The burning sensation spreads all the way to the strange feeling in your stomach.

:::

You’re losing the game, going to lose the game and you can’t stop yourself from stomping the ground in frustration when Lindsey gets a yellow for a call that was all ball.

You’re playing well though and that’s what makes it even worse. Nothing is connecting, crosses aren’t getting finished and the ref is getting on your nerves.

You know Lindsey’s going to be upset before you even find her after the whistle blows. She doesn’t handle losing well, is worse than you actually, especially in these types of situations: when you had a lot to prove and everything was close, but not close enough.

She went straight to the locker room after the whistle, didn’t stay to wave to fans or anything and you don’t take that as a good sign. You want to do the same, want to skip the chaos of post game Providence Park, but you force yourself to stay and say hi to the fans in the crowd and tell yourself to give Lindsey a few minutes to calm down.

You smile and pose for pictures but cut it shorter than usual and make it back to the locker room. Finally, you spot Lindsey sitting towards the back, farthest from the door, with her shoulders on her knees and head facing the floor.

You can tell just by looking at her she’s not happy in the slightest, can feel the energy in the room without even stepping towards her. You want to make it go away. You can physically feel it inside you how badly you want to make it go away.

“Linds,” you say. You’re still standing in the doorway. She doesn’t say anything, just starts shaking her leg up and down slightly. It’s something you know she does when she’s upset or nervous or thinking. You can’t see her face.

“Lindsey.”

She lifts her head when she hears her full name. You hardly ever say it, but right now it feels like you should for some reason.

When she looks at you, you can tell she’s trying not to let tears slip out, can see the strain in her face. You’re stomach drops.

This has happened before, Lindsey being upset over a game but there has always been someone else there to comfort her alongside you: Either Tobin with her wise words or Caitlin there to crack a joke to lighten the mood. Right now it’s just the two of you, and you’re very aware of that.

You leave your spot in the door and close the space between you, settling right next to her on the bench. You sling an arm around her shoulder and pull her into your side, can feel the muscles in her back relax as she audible exhales, leaning into you even more.

“This is… stupid.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

You don’t have to ask what it is, that’s stupid, because you already know. Everything is stupid.

“Linds, it’s not stupid. You’re allowed to feel this way,” you say into her ear.

“No, I’m not. I should’ve-”

You cut her off mid sentence. “Lindsey, stop. You did everything you could do, we have more games, a lot more games. We were playing good. And that’s all we can do right now”

“Should’ve scored,” This time she really does whisper.

You can tell the tears slipped out before she’s done saying it. So you cup her chin between your thumb and fingers and pull her face to look at you. Two single tears run down her cheek and you swipe them away with your thumb. Then tuck the fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

You know exactly why Lindsey is feeling this way. You feel it too. You know making the World Cup team is a dream in itself, and that’s half the reason why Lindsey probably feels so guilty right now. But when you make it to the World Cup and don’t play in big games and aren’t playing the amount of minutes you expected… yeah, you have a lot to prove, for Tokyo specifically. And you know Lindsey feels the exact same way.

“Listen to me Linds, you’re so, so good,” You’re only halfway talking about soccer. Lindsey is good in a lot of other aspects as well. “And you have a lot more time to show everyone that.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.”

“I know, I get it. I really get that. But can you just trust me on this one?”

You still have your hand touching the back of her ear and she’s looking straight into your eyes. She doesn’t say anything but the look on her face tells you what you need to know. Yeah, she does trust you on this one.

“Let’s go home Linds”

:::

The second Lindsey turns the car on and peels out of the parking lot her hand is on your thigh, gripping tighter than she ever has. You put her hand on top of hers and don’t bother with the aux, just turn up the radio softly.

Just yesterday Lindsey was so, so happy sitting next to you in the driver's seat. You think back to her singing the lyrics of your playlist and not being able to control your laughter when her voice cracked. You remember her hand, exactly where it is now and how much lighter it felt yesterday. Now, it feels like she’s gripping onto dear life. It kind of makes you feel like you might cry. You rub your thumb over the back of her hand.

When you’re walking in, gravity feels heavy again and you know Lindsey feels it too because she grabs your hand and grips tightly, doesn’t let go until she has to unlock the door to your apartment.

You haven’t said a word since you left the locker room.

You take turns showering. In silent agreement, Lindsey goes first and you let her take her time. And then it’s your turn and you wish you could take yours, wish you could relish in the burning sensation of the hot water and let your thoughts run wild. But something inside you tells you that you shouldn’t. Something tells you that you should go back out there and be with Lindsey as soon as possible because your body feels cold when she’s not around. And you’re standing directly under hot water while thinking that. Even if you don’t say anything for the rest of the night and all you do is lie on the couch watching The Office with her head in your lap, you don’t think you can be away from her right now.

So you shut the water off when the minimum requirements of a shower are fulfilled and return to your room to put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. You don’t even realize the shirt isn’t yours until you’re pulling it over your head and inhale. It’s Lindsey’s shirt, can tell by the hint of vanilla perfume she always wears and a mix of something else you can’t describe. It’s just the way Lindsey smells. You don’t remember how the shirt even got in your room.

You realize you don’t really know what to do after you’re done changing. Lindsey wasn’t in the living room when you got out of the bathroom, so you know she’s still in her room. All you want to do is walk down the hall and knock on her door. It would be so easy, but you also don’t want to intrude and she probably just needs more time to debrief.

So you make it to the couch and start up Netflix and wait. You keep waiting, until you’re halfway into the second episode and then you start to believe Lindsey isn’t coming out at all. She probably fell asleep, or really just wants to be alone.

You definitely don’t want to be alone.

And then you hear Lindsey’s door opening and her footsteps down the hallway and you reach for the remote to turn it down a few notches, just incase she wants to say anything.

“Hey,” you say softly

“Hey.” She goes to the kitchen to fill a glass with water. She’s wearing another oversized shirt, this time it’s a pretty lilac color and you think it goes really nicely with the platinum streaks in her hair even in the dim lighting of the apartment. Then, when she’s finished she comes around from behind the counter and... _jesus_. You can see the tops of her thighs again, where her shorts should be, but the shorts aren’t there, and this time you know exactly why.

“Do you… do you feel any better?” You ask.

“Yeah I do. I feel better. Thank you, Son, for everything. Thank you.” Her voice sounds so soft, and she looks so soft and you really, really feel that strange feeling in your stomach again. And then Lindsey is crawling onto the couch and her head is in your lap before you have time to think another thought.

You knew this was going to happen, literally thought about it in the shower a half an hour ago about doing this exact thing. But the feeling of it actually happening shocks you a bit and you don’t move for a few seconds, your hands hovering over her face like you don’t know where to put them. And then you remember they go in her hair, because you have done this before, many times. You think back and question how you did it, how you’ve been in this exact position and somehow _didn’t_ have this feeling in your stomach, basically in your entire body by now. But as your nails find her scalp and you press play on the remote, you think that you’ve probably always had this lingering feeling, deep down anyway, and something changed enough on her part for you to let it slip up.

You lay like that, with your nails tracing ever so lightly through her hair, for another episode until your eyes feel droopy and you think Lindsey might be asleep. Her breathing is really slow.

“Linds,” you say almost at a whisper, to see if she really is asleep.

But she replies, “Yeah.”

“Do you wanna go to bed?”

“Yeah we can go to bed.” But she doesn’t move her head from your lap when the tv shuts off and now it’s really quiet throughout the whole apartment and you don’t really know what to do. So you keep brushing your fingers through her hair because that feels like _all_ you know how to do right now.

She sighs softly and then lifts her head. Now she’s sitting criss cross right beside you looking down into her lap.

“Em,” She breathes out.

You look at her, right as her eyes lift back up; they look green in the dim light, and then suddenly you’re not looking at her because her lips are crashing into yours and she’s kissing you.

It catches you so completely off guard it takes a few seconds for your brain to understand what’s happening and even longer for your lips to catch up and then you’re kissing her back. It’s so soft, and so slow and you can’t help it when a small sound escapes your throat. Lindsey must’ve heard it because she deepens it a little and pulls you in by the back of your neck so you’re practically in her lap now.

But then she pulls away slowly and you so badly didn’t want her to stop that you almost close the space between you again but then-

“I.. I’m sorry. Oh my god, fuck I’m so stupid. I’m-” she breathes out, shrinking back into herself.

You stutter a bit, “I- Linds, could you not tell that I wanted to do that? Jesus- I- wanted you to do that for so long, couldn’t you tell that?”

She doesn’t say anything, just looks down into her lap and this time your stomach drops, but not in the good way. You realize in this second, with the warmth of Lindsey’s body too far away now for you to feel, you might’ve really fucked this up. You were probably reading everything wrong and feeling the entire wrong type of way because you two had been doing the same exact thing you’d been doing for years, nothing’s changed, not really. So you’re about to run off the coach and get as far away as possible before this can get anymore messed up-

And then Lindsey is pulling your face towards her and kissing you again. This time it’s faster, deeper, with a little bit more teeth and you’re falling into her lap again and cupping her face with both your hands.

It’s desperate from both of you. It feels the same way as Lindsey gripping your thigh tightly on the way home, like the world might crush her if she wasn’t holding on to you. But it’s even more intense because it’s Lindsey’s _lips_ on your lips, and it’s not just her hand on your thigh: It’s one of her hands behind your neck, pulling you closer and one hand on your hips, right where they dip into your waist.

You make another quiet noise from the back of your throat and then Lindsey is opening her mouth into yours and _oh_, this is a lot. You’re whole body is burning.

Lindsey makes a similar sound to the one you made earlier and then you push her down until she’s on her back with her head against the arm of the couch. Then you’re straddling her lap and kissing her. Really kissing her. The way best friends don’t kiss.

You’re hands are shaking as they reach up for Lindsey’s hair and the pads of your fingers find her scalp. And that’s what really does it. Because you’re fingers would still be there if you were still laying on the couch with her head in your lap but instead you’re doing _this_ and-

You jerk your head up abruptly, probably a little too abruptly and gasp.

She sits up and just looks at you, a concerned crease between her eyebrows.

“Em, we don’t have-”

“Sorry. No I- It just felt… felt like a lot. And I don’t wanna do anything you don’t wanna do so. We can go back to watching our show or go to sleep or-”

She grabs your wrist and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time, Em, longer than I think I even know myself. If you don’t want to that’s fine, I- I don’t want to mess anything up but if you do, you don’t have to worry about me because I like you... so much and honestly it feels like we should’ve been doing that a long time ago.”

Listening to Lindsey’s words you can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. You try to keep it from getting even wider but then you look up at Lindsey and her eyes are full of longing and you can tell she wants it just as much as you. And then you really can’t stop the smile from growing.

“You like me?” Is all you manage to choke out. Everything feels so incredibly staggering right now and you need to hear Lindsey say the words. Need to hear her say the words you wouldn’t ever dare to let yourself think about before tonight.

Lindsey laughs softly and does the small smile where her nose scrunches just a bit and her dimples gets really deep. You would really like to kiss that dimple. “Yes, idiot, I like you and I want to keep kissing you-” She’s already pulling at your wrist for you to come closer.

And then she’s laughing into your mouth and you already have to hold yourself together because it’s quite possibly the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

You pull away far enough just to pepper kisses to her cheeks and to find her dimples. She laughs harder when you do and smiles wider and that only encourages you to keep going. And then you lean your forehead against hers to slow down a bit because this still feels like a lot. You feel like you need to go slower, in case this is somehow a fluke and never happens again, you need to relish in how good it is.

You're panting a bit when you tell her, “I.. fucking love your dimples.” And then you're both laughing again right into each others mouths.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. All you know is that Lindsey is really good at kissing and you can’t believe you haven’t been kissing her sooner. When you’ve got Lindsey on her back again and your thighs are on both sides of her waist, Lindsey pushes against your hips with her hands, enough for you to roll back on your heels. And then she stands swiftly off the couch, holds out her hand, and then you’re almost stumbling down the hallway towards Lindsey’s room. Before you’re even fully inside she spins around and nudges you until the door is closed and your pinned up against it.

Lindsey’s hands are all over you. With the new angle and location she’s able to touch… _a lot_. She runs her hands over the sides of your hips, pulling up your shirt along the way as her hands travel farther upward till they’re cupping your face. They only stay there for a second before they’re in your hair, behind your neck, on the sides of your thighs. They’re everywhere and they feel so big and all you can do is wrap your arms around her shoulders and kiss her back.

When her hands find your hips again, her fingers grip the edge of your shirt, _her_ shirt and you feel her start to falter, can tell she’s doubting what she’s about to do, so you do it for her. You cross your arms over your front and lift your shirt without thinking about any of it. You’re thoughts haven't been coherent since way back on the couch.

But after you do it, and you’re leaning against the door, now shirtless, Lindsey doesn’t continue what she was doing before. Instead she’s just staring at you and you follow her eyes as they trail from your abs to your lips and then to your eyes.

You think maybe you should say something, reassure Lindsey once again that this is everything you want and more, since she was faltering a bit. But you can’t really think of anything to say right now. So you look into her eyes for a few more seconds, smile softy, and then pull her wrist until her chest is against your chest again and her lips are finally back on your mouth.

She moans softly and you can feel it throughout your entire body and then you’re pushing her forward so she’s walking backwards towards the bed. When her knees hit, she falls down softly and you stand above her, watching as her hair is sprawled out on the blanket, golden in the soft light of the lamp. You take just a second to look at her, to look at the way her body is waiting for you to crawl on top of her, and you’re going to, but first you have to say the first coherent thought that comes to your mind.

“Lindsey, I hope you know how good you are.”

And then you’re on your knees crawling onto her again, but before you can firmly slot your thighs over her torso, both her hands find your waist and she flips you, so easily, so now she’s the one slotted between your legs and her hands are already everywhere again. You gasp sharply because it caught you so off guard. And when her lips find yours the kiss is deep and urgent and hot and heavy and you completely lose it. Each time Lindsey moves her fingers over somewhere new it feels like you’re melting into the bed. Her touch burns, feels like your whole body is on fire.

And then she’s moving down the bed and tugging at your sweats and you let out a breathy sound. You wish you could do more right now, wish you could touch her more like she’s touching you but with the feeling of Lindsey’s hands on the top of your bare thighs all you can do is lean your head back on the pillow and close your eyes.

You kick your sweats off from where they’re bunched around your ankles and pick your head back up right as Lindsey is leaning down towards your stomach. Then, she _licks_ your bare skin from the top of your underwear right into your belly button and your head slams back into the pillow.

“_Fuck_ Lindsey, oh my god.”

You can’t see her, but she stops and you know she’s looking at you. You hear her chuckle softly and she continues, peppering kisses all the way until she meets your mouth and then slides back down to your thighs.

She’s yours, you think through the midst of everything, has always been yours and what she’s doing right now is a way of showing you that you’re hers too. You’ve always been each others.

That’s your last coherent thought before whatever Lindsey is doing can only you make you choke out “fuck” and “Linds” and “oh my god.”

After you’re done and Lindsey is laying her head on your stomach, you think that this is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

:::

Later, after you finally got to do what you wanted to do but couldn’t when Lindsey was the one touching you, you roll onto your side and she fits perfectly into your back. You drift asleep with her breath on your neck again, except this time you feel lighter, lighter than you ever have before. And you never want to get rid of that feeling.

……

You wake up in the morning to the light, once again, beaming through the blinds. It takes a second for everything to come flooding in but once it does you smile softly to yourself. In any other situation you might’ve had to convince yourself it was a dream, but you can feel Lindsey’s bare leg wrapped around your bare waist and no, no this wasn’t a dream.

This time you take no time flipping over to face Lindsey, to look at her hair in the light and bury your nose into her neck. That’s where you stay for a few minutes, wrapped in her warmth, even now she still doesn’t wake up.

Then you get restless, want to see her blue eyes and hear her low morning voice, so you kiss her nose and then her dimple, then her forehead because this time you actually can. This time you don’t have to wait for her eyes to flutter open on their own.

When she does wake and her eyes find their way to yours, you feel the light from the window go straight into your chest.

“Morning,” you whisper into the side of her cheek.

“Hi.” Her voice is gravelly and low, just how you imagined it in your head.

She takes her time fully waking up, yawns, stretches. And looks incredibly cute and soft while doing it.

When you’re finally making your way out of bed, after laying in each other’s grasp for a few minutes, she sits on the side of the bed and reaches for the shorts that are on the ground now, your shorts. You’re mind flashes back to last night, getting to pull them off of her. If she puts them back on now-

You start to head out of the room on your way to make the eggs, showing the most self restraint you ever have, when you turn around.

“Hey Linds,” you say. “Nice shorts."


End file.
